Upon near completion of my newest album I have become extremely visually inspired by many things, to the strange pinnacle of madness. It is necessary to be wary of insanity, at times the colors can become too bright, the shapes too sharp, and form too mysterious to even begin to ponder its existence. Alas, this is why the artist and musician creates, and the philosopher writes.

Without manifestation of such observations, these things are not purged from the brain. The brain is a computer that at times, to function properly, needs things cleared from the hard drive. To the brain, an "art" serves as an external hard drive. It is a documentation of a thought, feeling or observation, that once explored fully and put into form, no longer needs as much attention. If this process does not occur, such thoughts and observations can build up in a brain, coagulate and create nonsensical thought tumors, bearing a sickness that deteriorates the mentality of the individual. This can take away one's humanity, only to portray them as a malfunctioning machine, with a frozen or flashing screen or an arbitrary systemization.

On this note, I recommend the film Seraphine:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Zn8sUIFlnw

Bleeding Hearts and Forget Me Nots has been put on the back burner, as the interest in such subject matter was largely intellectual and also related to an issue I feel that I have portrayed more accurately through sound in Kingdom of Shells through the track titled "Mnemosyne".

For motivational reasons, I will document the process of my current paintings in this blog.

The above sketch is a brief, intuitive image that came to mind one day upon an informal meditation. I will elaborate on this image and post pictures as progress ensues.

"Our next release on Deathwish, This Sheltering Night, was actually recorded before the split with Overmars at various sessions throughout 2007-2008 at DeadVerse Studios. This is six Starkweather songs ("Bustuari," "Epiphany," "All Creatures Damned And Divine," "Broken From Inside," "Martyring," and "One Among Vermin") and features soundscape interludes created by artist and musician Elizabeth Jacobs, under her guise as Sophia Perennis, and Oktopus from Dalek. Also adding textural flourishes on some songs is Forbes Graham, ex Kayo Dot and long-time auxillary member Bill Molchanow. The entire album can be played as one continuous 73:41 piece or as separate tracks. A release date and other specifics will also be announced soon."

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Part 1: The Game (Excerpts from "The Human and the Universe: A Picture Book")

"What is that creature over there Mother?"

"That is a human, Little One."

"And why does it look so sad?"

"Humans are an incredible animal. They are the only life form on this planet that cannot see."

"How can they not see? Do they not have eyes for such capability?"

"It is a different seeing, Little One. This creature has been stripped of many things which those of her kingdom value. Like many life forms in the physical realm, she experiences suffering. Unable to awaken her spirit, her state is like that of a deep, dreamless sleep. She walks with one foot in Hell."

"What is Hell, Mother? And why does she leave her foot there?"

"Hell is the place without Hope. She is unaware that she drags it around her heel. For she is sick, and her faculties for detecting the wretched odor are impaired. She poisons her body with many earthly favors, likening them to candy."

"What is the purpose of their existence, Mother, if these creatures are in Hell?"

"The purpose is a large game of Hide and Seek. For the Universe is playful, and this is its favorite sport. But part of the game, Little One, is that The Seeker is unaware of the game. The Universe makes strange noises called music, and leaves pretty things such as shells, jewels and flowers, strewn about affirming it's presence. Sometimes it grants things in a timely fashion, but humans misunderstand their purpose, and call them "coincidences", the uncanny side affect of probability.

But the Seeker is taught nothing of these things. She is misguided by a world that is unaware of the game. It is a world that creates smaller, unimportant games to distract her from the big one. She lives in a paradox, where the big game is less obvious than the smaller ones. To see the game, you must become as big as the Universe. But it is hard to be big when one's infinity is cramped inside a very small vessel."

"It seems like a very cruel game for the Universe to play! Why will it not come out and say, "Here I am!"?

Part 2: Madness.

"Little One, there is a thing in humans called Madness. Often times, when the Universe does this, a human will mistake the profound greeting for Madness, and deny the existence of the game altogether. Even if the human does not mistake this greeting for Madness, she will be compelled to share this knowledge with others. Since most are unaware of the Game, they will mistake this for insanity, and convince her that she has a disorder of the mind."

"What is Madness, Mother?"

"Madness can be many things. It is caused by earthly things, such as misery, which are aspects of misfortune. Misfortune manifests itself primarily in events that cause the Seeker to draw the conclusion that what is good is ultimately inaccessible. One event of misfortune changes the perception of the Seeker. When these things happen, the human falls under the power of Evil."

"Evil?"

"Evil is what happens when the Universe does not get attention. Much like an earthly child, when it gets its attention from engaging in acts of Chaos in one seeker, instead of leaving its presence through beautiful things, it will begin to to leave its presence through tantrums. For it would rather be recognized for its destructive power, than ignored altogether. Often times, this causes a madness in humans called depression. Depression is a state of being that distracts the Seeker from the Game, and causes her to exist in a world of personal perception. Because this perception is not Truth, it is delusion. Born of delusion are many illnesses. This is called psychosis, and it further blinds the Seeker."

"Is this why the girl yonder is so sad?"

"Yes, Little One. This is why she is what you call sad. But it is not sadness that afflicts her. For it is greater and darker than sadness."

"Then what is sad?"

"Sadness is the inability to experience goodness. Because its very state insinuates that one is attempting to connect to what is good, it is good in itself. This is a necessary state of being required to connect to the Divine. Sadness is also experienced through loss. To want what is good, when what is good is gone, is sad. Sadness happens often when those we love pass. It exists through remembrance. It is a profound emotion that is a bridge between what once was positive, and what shall be positive again. It is necessary for the Seeker to cross this bridge many times in life. Through this emotion, one experiences the existence of the Circle.

"Then what is depression?"

"Depression is what happens when one stops in the middle of the bridge and misconceives it for the world, unable to see the past, or the future. Depression is inertia. If the human does not continue to move, it will not become aware of the Circle."

"What is the Circle, Mother?"

An Aside: The Circle

"Why Little One, the Circle is the Universe!"

"Then Mother, what is the Universe?"

"The Universe is the Circle!"

"Why is it then, that you call the same thing a Circle, and other times, The Universe?"

"Sometimes, Little One, a chair is a chair. And the chair is always a seat. But a seat is not always a chair."

The Human: Part 1

"I am here at the edge of the world, accompanied by this nauseating selfishness. The ability to know and the lack of sight that plagues me is a torturous paradox. The only reason I fear death is because it is ruthless in its attempts to pull me toward it.

The ocean is a giant corpse, feeding colonies of life. It doesn't freeze because it is so large. I want to be cold-blooded, as a mermaid, with unruly hair to pluck tiny dead fish from for an afternoon snack. I long to be as vast as the ocean, to swim with the horizon as my goal, until my lungs are breathless, and my muscles without power. First my body will exhaust giving way to weakness. Upon my final gasp, the water will be my air. Devoured by the sphere I am trapped upon, I will relinquish a fear so terrible, no longer a prisoner to its desire.

For many years I have ceased to let the Evil tempt me. In nightmares it is personified by a greedy man, lusting after a burning soul. It has taunted me desperately, "Why won't you give me a chance? Why won't you let me have you?" It seeks me for the shadows, thinking I may be their light. It does not realize I cannot shine for it. I will only become a part of the night, black as the void it despises. Should I let it win, if only to end this arduous battle? Should I let it win, if only to stop playing this tedious game?

My surroundings are glorious, leaking splendour for my eyes to see, my skin to feel, my tongue to taste the sweet and salty tones of the atmosphere. Everything emits a divine ray of beauty! A speck of sand, a seashell, the graceful notes the wind carefully plays through the windows of the old house yonder. I swear, it laughs carrying the ghosts of gleeful, singing children! It is a small preservation of innocent days, as though something has sent it to guide me toward life...

But I'm afraid I have not been graced with the heart to believe that these things are nothing more than little dolls sewn to imitate life, mere fabrications of an intense fantasy, born of madness."

Part 3: Faith

"Mother, if the girl over there is depressed, is she also sad?"

"Yes Little One, she is also sad. Some people lose their sadness and fall into a very deep depression. In a very deep depression, apathy occurs. Apathy is a lack of feeling, and it is a very dangerous state of being. Evil thrives off of this. Right now, the creature is able to know what she is going through, and this makes her sad. This means she is still aware of something good. Her journey is slow. It is very possible she will move towards the darkness instead of the light. Right now, the shadows are much stronger. She is losing faith. Without faith, nothing is possible.

"What is faith, Mother?"

"Little One, faith is hard to comprehend. Great humans have said that faith is the evidence of things not seen. One can have faith in many things. It is very important for humans to have faith in each other, faith in love, and faith in themselves. This is a type of knowledge that does not have its root in scientific proof. It is what great humans have built the world on. It is how humans have travelled to space, built massive structures, and survived many hardships. One must have faith in oneself, through this only can a human have faith in others, and only through having faith in oneself and in others can one have faith in love."

Part 4: Love

"What is Love?"

"Love, in the world of humans can be an unfortunate matter. Love in the Universe is a very positive thing. Many humans do not understand it, and they mistake love for many earthly pleasures. They mistake it for need and comfort, and fall short of experiencing such a grand state of being. Sometimes they may have an idea of love, but do nothing to nurture it, and it dies. It is like a fish that, once caught, you must keep reeling in. If you do not, and are not careful, you will lose it.

Some people are greedy, and when they catch this fish, they skin it, put it over fire, and eat it. This whole process is lustful, and the end result is indulgent. They continue to do this every time their line catches, eating every fish in the sea for their own gluttonous pleasure, never knowing if Love may come of it.

When the fish is caught, it is a life force that must be kept alive. It can get very sick sometimes. Humans do not recognize this. Instead of nursing it back to health, they choose to kill it, so that it does not suffer. Much like a pet animal, they accept its death, and they move on, often times making the same mistake again."

"Did the creature over there make such a mistake, Mother?"

"Oh Little One, she has made this mistake before, but so has everyone in their youth. She has learned her lesson in this matter, but those she comes across have not. No longer has she the heart to feel the things she knows to be true. To her, they are now lies. She likens them to Santa Claus, a mythical man who brings presents to children one day of the year, and others from his fantasy realm, like the Tooth Fairy, who collects the lost teeth of children and leaves little gifts for them in exchange."

"But Mother! That is so silly! For Love seems more real than childish fairy tales!"

"You are right, Little One, but this is why she does not believe. She has not met another who tries to keep love alive, as she does. She does not have faith that love exists, because though she's felt it before, she cannot feel it now. For her, half way through the line broke, and her fish swam away into the vast sea. She does not believe she will find it again, and her growing madness causes her to deny that she was ever close to it, that it was perhaps a large, dirty boot after all."

"Won't she keep fishing?"

"Humans have a thing called pride. If one does not have pride, they feel like a fool. Fools are those who waste their time on idle things. They are stupid, and never learn from anything, repeating the same mistakes again and again. She is afraid of being a fool. For she does not want to search any longer for something she does not know to be real. She is stuck in the middle of a great battle. The light is love and faith, waiting for her to return, but she does not yet see it. What little light may catch her eye is but a pin prick in a giant sheet of black. The darkness is winning, as it often does."

"Why is it so hard for humans to understand these things?"

"Humans live in an overpopulated world that is dense with lies and religion, made by many who have succumbed to the delusion of madness, all claiming that they know the Truth. Because of this, they do not know how to find their own way toward the light. They are misguided. Those who understand that others are misguided are often victims of such false answers. For they go through much hardship and pressure from the mad ones who narcissistically desire the naysayers to share their vision to validate their own delusion. Because there are many imitations of knowledge, it creates an expansive forest of fallacies that make it difficult for the Seeker to find the Truth."

The Human: Part 2

"The heart does not grow wearing of beating. Our lungs barely cease breathing, second by second, weaving minutes into days, stitching days into... years upon years our blood just keeps circulating sapphire blue through our veins, blood vessels like small solar systems, forever sailing through space and... I had believed that love could last this way, if only as long as it would take to number the stars on a country night.

But it is just a pitied, fair little flower, frightened of being submerged in a monster rain, and wilting below an ambitious sun. It is not even beautiful, like a fierce weed, enduring in the strangest of seasons.

Our hair will keep growing even after we're dead; the illusion of life that is love."

Part 5: Trust

"Mother, if Love is just a fish, why do humans seek it so?"

"Oh Little One, Love is not really a fish. Love is indescribable. Love is the Universe. The Universe has a process, it is its own life, and everything that is a part of it shares that process. Humans seek other humans to validate the existence of the Universe. Their relationships help them to develop attributes that they may otherwise lack. These attributes are often keys to the Universal door. Through faith and love in other humans who are on a similar path, it is easier to seek the Truth. Certainly you've heard that two heads are better than one. Two hearts are better than one also."

"What about three hearts, or four hearts?"

"Three hearts and four hearts are wonderful also! This is what is called friendship."

"Does the creature over there not have any friends? Is this why she is depressed?"

"No, Little One. The human is very much loved. She cannot feel this love because she sees others as being on either side of the bridge, while she remains in the middle. She feels as though her friends and loved ones walk back and forth, but she does not know where they are going. To her, they just appear and disappear like ghosts. Friends are different than lovers. They are there when you need them, but often are not always in sight. She is what they call heartbroken. Time and time again she has met many who have betrayed her. They appear and stay for some time, promising to walk her to the other side so that she will no longer have fear. Instead, many times, others have turned on her unable to recognize their own fear. Because these kinds of humans are unaware of their own shortcomings, their faulty perception can turn loved ones into monsters. They have often tried to push her off of the bridge, to her death. Now she does not know how to trust another."

"What does it matter, Mother? Why will she not just keep trying?"

"Because Little One, persistence requires faith, the element that she is rapidly losing grasp of. In her hand as sand she closes her fist tightly, unaware that such things require not a fist, but an open palm, that she may keep it in sight, ready to hand to another. She cannot see it, she only feels it slipping through her fingers, as though she is a human hour glass running out of time."

"What will she do if another arrives with the same promise?"

"I do not know Little One. It is very possible she has enough faith to try again. Right now, she views humans as animals who seek only physical and psychological comfort to help ignore their own madness. They mistake this for love. She does not think anyone knows how to consider anything sacred."

"What is sacred?"

"Sacred means having a divine quality. If something is sacred, it is a manifestation of the Universe, or what some call God. It is not something that is easy to touch, and if one is lucky to feel even a small indication of this, then they must practice connecting with it, that it may grow."

"If she knows all of these things, why does she not believe in them?"

"Oh Little One, through others she has found much doubt. It is others that are mad. Again, she lives in a paradox. The world is sick with its own insanity, but she believes that she is the one with an illness. For she is different. In the world she lives in, the majority is considered righteous. In many ways, she is a victim of their illness. She has lived with this illness before, resorting to empty things like poisons and self destructive behavior, believing that power lies in trade, and that she must fill her life with frivolous desires. But she will never again resort to this way of living. Now she will either stay, or go."

"Go across the bridge?"

"No Little One, go below the bridge, toward Death."

The Human: Part 3

"It is getting cold here on the shore. There is no longer a crisp, animating breeze, but like an invisible sword the wind scrapes against my skin, leaving thousands of goosebumps as miniature armies, evident of conquest. Should the sun retreat into the sea before I am ready, I must go home and prepare to live another day of this. Some moments I am more above than below, the sun never sets, for it burns brilliant in the pith of my heart. My human body suffers the rich, exhausting fire of all that is sacred under this relentless star, even when its physical incarnate shines only for the other side of the world. If in no one and nothing else, I trust the sun.

But darker moments have over stayed their welcome, and grown like stubborn vines, stretching into days beyond days, entering shadowy expanses across time. The sleeplessness has already crept into my eyes, prying them open in the most exhausting minutes. Life has already seemed too long.

Surrounded by blackness, those I love the most are strangers in their own little plays, belonging to another life I cannot touch. If I tear off their masks, only death will be revealed. I cannot join them as I've done before. Pretense is no longer an option, for in time the imagination fades, and role playing is too much work. Who and what am I if not like all the rest! How conceited of me to feel different! The madness is taking its toll."

Part 6: Two Worlds

"Mother, what is the girl doing now?"

"She is walking closer toward the ocean."

"Why?"

"Because Little One, she is leaning toward a decision. With her feet in the water, she is attempting to realize what it would be like to jump off the bridge. Her faith is waning, even more than before, and once it is gone it will be taken by the wind and spread out like ashes in an entire shore of sand, and she will not be able to pick it up again. There is a lot of love in her heart, but she has chosen to lock it up, and she has thrown the key into the sea. She thinks that by doing this she is saving her love for the Universe, not wanting to waste it on things she believes to be petty, like other people and their society. She does not understand life as a human, and would rather be an inhabitant of the ocean. She believes that only through death can she find the key to unlock her love, and only through such abyss can she find the proper fish that will carry it far throughout the seas. Her mind is very sick now, and she has created many romantic delusions born of her dilemma. She will die only for the sake of poetry. If she should choose to drown, it will not be as in a dream, like she imagines. It will be very real, very frightening, and very painful. Though there is a part of her that knows this reality, she is willing to accept the pain to achieve such a desperate fairy tale. She thinks she will turn into a mermaid. Such a dream will be her last attempt at finding beauty in this world. After this, she hopes that death is nothing but lack of consciousness. For she wants to return to the place she does not remember. The void prior to her conception."

"And to think, this is all because the Universe is a large playful child that wants attention!'

"Yes Little One, but the Universe is what has given life and soul to all humans, and all creation. How selfish would a human be not to accept and appreciate its gifts? When humans are selfish, they do not fulfill their purpose. They wear costumes that are called 'personalities' and they believe these personalities are who they are. But who they believe they are could not be farther from the Truth. So they go about their days as empty shells, and wonder why they suffer from things called stress and confusion. Then they take medicine to heal these feelings. But it is not real medicine, like love and faith. It is a drug, to help them cease thinking, or to help them sleep, or to create a false sense of happiness. The Universe has tried to help these people, but since they give nothing back, the Universe gives up. It no longer wants to play, and it leaves the selfish individual to her own devises, in a world that is only a stage where people are puppets ruled by egos that are created by society. It should be the goal of every human to find their soul, through it they can say hello to the Universe, and in return the Universe will tell them what their purpose is."

"Is the creature over there a selfish individual?"

"She is trapped between both worlds. One is a world where she must keep a personality, and the other does not wear a costume. She is in a place of isolation. Though many humans suffer this fate, they cannot see each other, for the atmosphere is dark and foggy. She does not comprehend either world, and she feels disconnected from both. It would be in her best interest to learn to travel between the two realms, but she can only conceive of all or nothing, for she has yet to understand balance and acceptance. She has many lessons to learn should she choose to stay with this world."

The Human: Part 4

I don’t think I can fathom how to love anymore. I have ceased to remember days when the flame of intuition washed over me, adorning me in the glitter of such divine virtue. Those days were glorious in nature! Despairingly young, the sinews of my heart were unrivaled. Something has changed. The sinews have snapped, and I can no longer hear my heart beating loud as it once did. It seems that any faint patter that sounds is merely an echo from the past, carried here by the long, cruel arms of memory. And if a person does not love, of what use are they? I have seen these people, only their intellect survives. They are hideous, wearing black, petrified hearts upon their sleeves as emblems of destitute lives, with hopeless histories and faithless futures.

I have but one grain of faith left in my trembling hand, but one tear of hope to cry. Could this be enough to birth an ocean of hope, a shore of faith? Where the earth meets the sea, this must be love, for it is the world!

Wait, what is happening? In the silence of my mind I can hear drums! What strange music for madness to play! There is a laughter that tiptoes into this somber air. And something whispers sweetly in the atmosphere. It all comes together like threads weaving in and out, an attempt to mend that crucial organ.

An illusion of music, that’s all. Like hearing someone call your name in a noisy crowd, it is nothing. It’s as silly as thinking the voice of the ocean can be heard in a shell! It is dark now, and returning to the comfort of material shelter, with such companions as books and music, and pretty images of things on walls, seems an impossible feat. Rather I would freeze to death out here! But I have all night to think, for sleep is a friend that does not come around often.

The Passerby: Part 1

What is a girl like you doing out here this late? I have been watching you sit and ponder, thought after thought past the bedtime of these parts! You have been out here since dawn daydreaming your own demise!

*

What makes you think you know what I ponder? I have only been thinking about how pretty the sun is as it rises and sets, contemplating it’s early morning strength and meditating upon it’s weary shine as the day progresses. I think only of simple things, and they amuse me enough to stay curious about life.

*

My girl, you speak lies! You have been staring at the ocean with love in your eyes, and as the tide comes in and kisses your toes I have seen you smile, you live only for the affection of the sea. You slowly relinquish any affinity you may have had toward other things on this earth, family, friends, memories, responsibilities. Anything that reminds you of daily life you shove into the heart of forgetfullness and choose to become entranced by the hypnotic music of the vast mystery that lies in the water before you. It is a haunting and beautiful release from the weight of humanity you desire, to be consumed by such a magnificant power, a symbol for you of all that is unknown to man. If only you could return to where you came from, by way of the water, this is what you think. Everyone who seeks death has their own transcendant vehicle that will take them there. I once knew a girl who committed suicide in a wild garden, thinking that she would decompose into the earth and flowers would sprout from her body! And you think yours is a solitary story, but all fantasies consist of more than one character, and are repeated throughout all parts of the earth in various manners. Even without me in the pages of your sordid tale, there are others that can read your words. Your face is riddled with paragraphs!

Whether they be animals or spirits, the sun or the wind, you are not the only one reading what you write!

*

I am the only one here, save the ocean! I see nothing else in the scenery before me, now that the sun has itself been extinguished by the horizon. It is just I faced with this incredible, majestic beast of a world upon this earth that we call the sea! The moon and the stars as well I suppose, but their function is surely to dress the sea, enhancing it’s natural beauty. And I could sit here for an eternity and dream of drowning in this vision! For I should be so lucky that such a godly thing would consume me! And I don’t have any concern with the thoughts of others, let them think I am mad! I have been in love with the ocean since I was a little girl, and nothing else could cause me such misery than being bound to this body, cursed with the brain of civilized men yet blessed with such spirit, in a constant battle to live in two worlds, yet belonging to neither! I want to be the ocean, to rise from the surface into the sky and transform into a cloud, and feed the earth that I may exist in every natural living thing that grows!

*

Says the girl who thinks only of simple things! If you long to be the ocean, why have you not yet stepped into the water?

*

It is nothing you nor anyone else could understand.

*

It is the music of the universe that whispers things into your ear, is it not? It is the ocean itself that mumbles what you must do, but you have yet to learn to hear such things properly. Your spirit is not tuned with the music, and thus it fails to process the notes. Then you lose the rhythm, call it a delusion, and enter back into the fog of uncertainty, where there is only, as you said, a little storybook girl and the grandiose ocean; A backwards version of The Little Mermaid! A sad weightless spirit trapped in a prison of flesh and bone, longing for it’s release through death.

*

What nerve you have to narrate my thoughts!

*

Well perhaps you should close the book and enter the sea if you wish for the story to end. Otherwise, like I said, the words shine like dancing flames in the dark expression clouding your face, and your tears are merely metaphors laced through your story to emphasize the sadness of it all.

*

I haven’t any tears! A girl like me does not cry! What you think is evidence of sadness is only a result of a bitter and salty wind brushing past my eyes!

*

How stubborn you are! It is better to cry than to remain in a state where one cannot cry. In the eighth circle of hell souls are blessed with nodded heads that their tears may fall. But you are almost always in the ninth circle, with your head looking up in the coldest of atmospheres, and your tears freeze unable to fall from your face. You are the picture of death, and may as well step into the ocean. In your heart you are already there, my friend. What is it that you are waiting for?

*

I am waiting to grow a world of hope with this last bit of sand in my hand. But I may as well give it to the wind, for I feel I have run out of time.

How is it that I can see you? For I have not seen anyone for so long, nor have they seen me! People pass by the shore, at times they run past kicking sand my way, and even then though I see their footprints and feel their urgency, they are just ghosts to me, and I to them.

And how is it that you can see me?

*

I am a part of your story, my friend. You have written me in, whether you realize it or not, for a story like yours would not be complete without a character of my nature. And I have been in many stories, and I have played the part of you in this one in another life. And you have played my part as well. I am here to show you how this ends.

*

This is not a story, and you do not know how this ends. This is life!

*

Is life not a story of which the poets and great writers continue to narrate throughout the centuries, illustrated by the divine works of legendary artists, from Michaelangelo and Picasso, to Redon and Bacon?

*

Hardly a comedy or fairytale, rather a tradgedy, this life you call a story!

*

A tradgedy indeed! Open your hand.

*

If I open my hand, the wind will rob me of my last breath, my last heartbeat, it will throw me into the sea!

*

You do not trust me. That’s reasonable, but listen to your heart.

*

I have not heard it for some time now, though I know it continues beating.

*

You exist wanting to be ruled by intellect, but even as you focus your thoughts in what you call the rational world, a physical world ruled by fear and emptiness, scattered with empty shells. This is what you and others name Reality. Regardless, the energy in your spirit screams with color, like a butterfly trapped in a glass jar, dreaming of fields speckled with flowers and at times almost tasting their sweet nectar. You pretend, playing the part of a demon with a veiled face and cruel eyes.

*

I am a demon, an empty shell with hollow eyes! And even if it is an elaborate costume, why would you risk believing it was anything other than real? For if I am a demon, I could devour you in the moment!

*

Look away from me and fix your eyes upon the palm of your hand. Is it not opened, and filled with sand? You were not paying attention to your true desires. What you call a violent wind has yet to rob you of your faith. When you have a fear of loss, you hold on tightly. It is not in the nature of trust to encompass fear.

The moonshells attached vehemently to the rocks, it is the snail that is strong enough to hold on, its armour is merely a sheild. There is something inside you that wants to live, to fight the sapphire waves of the sea which promise beauty, but will do nothing but break your shell, and bear you again in a new one. In life, you have a choice; to live, or to die. Suicide is a brilliant creature. For it is as a fox, a very sly trickster.

Nothing has an end, nor does it have a beginning. Moment after moment creates the circle that is time. Birth is a moment, death is a moment. Happiness is a moment, sadness is a moment. One after the other, and nothing lasts. For existence is a pendulum that goes to and fro, between darkness and light, positive and negative. This is the nature of balance. Nothing would be complete without it’s opposite. Walk into the sea with your delusion, you’re uncertain belief that death is an end, and risk the chance of living again. The Universe is very aware that self inflicted death is cheating. You are half way across the board in this game. Existence is not something you can destroy. If you quit, it may not be an end, but an avenue for you to return to the beginning of life, the very thing you are trying to escape. For you to return to the beginning would be an error, an unneccessary loss of all you have learned, and a chosen failure.

*

Who are you that you think you know such things? The man who believes largely in spirit and puts little stock in science and the physical realm speaks of “balance”! What if death is a strict end? What if it is a deep, dreamless, dark sleep. What if life is a one shot deal that I do not want? What if a bullet, a razor, a dip into the cold massive void could alleviate this? What if we are merely empty shells with nothing inside, and what if I do not want to exist as an empty shell anymore? Let the waves perish me! For I would rather exist as nothing than be something with nothing inside! Who are you to speak such promising lies!

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I am a friend, that is all.

Part 7: Shells

What is happening now Mother?

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Little One, the human has done to another what she fears others will do to her. For she is like a wild animal that has been trapped and beaten numerous times. When someone tries to pet it, it will bite. When someone tries to give it food, it would sooner starve for fear of poison. She has attempted to push another off of the bridge, but he is further along in the game than she, and understands her position. She is wearing a costume, and pretends that she is but a shell. She attempts to believe in this because in the physical realm, things can be processed with the five senses. In the nonphysical realm, things can merely be felt, thought about and processed with a sense that is not focused on in the current society of humanity. People fear trusting these things because this realm is unexplored by the majority. People must be reliant on their own discoveries and consequently their own deductions when it comes to such things. It is a solitary journey that is meant to nurture the ability to trust and have faith in oneself. When this ability is nurtured, the gift is connecting with others, and realizing that you were never alone. It is the most difficult journey, so much so that many do not choose to embark on it.

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Why would humans only trust the physical realm?

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Because instead of understanding the duality of the physical and non-physical realm, they focus primarily on the physical realm. For example, emotions can be induced by physical chemicals in the brain, but we think of emotions as metaphysical, or of the mind. However, these two things are interchangable. We can control these chemicals through our emotions, just as much as these chemicals can control how we feel. This is an example of the nature of balance. If we develop the habit of becoming a happier individual, the chemicals will follow suit, and the nature of a person changes. If we persist only in misery, and do not believe we have the ability to change, our belief that chemicals are causing the misery will allow them to take over. It renders an individual powerless. What humans do not understand is that things always start first with an idea, an energy that is born on another level of existence, and passes through various realms until it is made manifest in the physical. Even this is evident in science.

The Human: Part 5

What kind of beast intrudes upon a person’s misery and attempts to rip away the one feeling they have that keeps them from heartlessness? How ruthless must one be to impose their unfounded, frivolous beliefs upon another!? I do not care. I do not care anymore! What have I left but the way that I feel? For I feel as a shell with nothing inside, and I must live as a shell or be nothing at all. And I should rather be nothing without the shell, for such an object is a lie! Who would desire to be beautiful, strong, smooth and indicative of life when there is nothing inside? There is not a soul in the world who would want to become a mask! What is a mask if it cannot be worn? For there is no one anymore to present such a shell, to wear such a mask. I am a costume, not a person wearing one. My essence is nothing.

And yet there were days that I believed in more. But I was naive back then. Suicide is not the trickster, it is he who calls himself a friend that is the sly fox! And I must defeat him before he defeats me! This sand he has given me looks more like dirt! Yes, it is dirt! Yet I cannot bring myself to fling it to the wind just yet.